?Always speak politely to an enraged dragon.?
- An Elven Scholar, just before he was killed by a dragon his apprentice enraged.
Drifaere was born to a Houseless family deep in the Underdark Wilds, a small clan of Warriors that studied various forms of magic to augment their abilities. They did this so they could fight in the name of the Spider Queen, defending their meager home from the creatures of the Wilds.
Each person was taken at birth and given a blessing. If that blessing failed, a new blessing was attempted. These blessings were related to the great sources of magic. If that blessing succeeded, the new Illythiri was raised and trained specifically to learn that magic.
Once the Illythiri was blessed, they were also named in relation to their Lolth gifted magic. Of all of these schools that the clan elders raised the young Illythiri in, the rares was the magic of the Dragons. It often took several generations before a Dragon Disciple was selected from the new births.
In one of these blessed generations, Drifaere was born and the Blessing of the Dragon chose her. And so it was, she was raised to fight with the styles and magics of the Dragons. Much to her surprise, after her twentieth year, Drifaere found a great pain in her back. This pain went for weeks, incapacitating her. Oddly, the Elders were not surprised. After falling unconscious for several days, the young Illythiri awoke to find that ebon Dragon wings had sprouted from her spine, just below her shoulders.
Donning a thick cloak, the girl faithfully continued worshipping Lolth and training in the ways of Dragons until she was old enough to join the warriors of the clan.
For twenty years, the Clans lived peacefully, periodically fighting off hordes of roaming creatures. One night, however, the perimeter guards alerted the village that there were invaders approaching. Awakening, Drifaere ran out of her home to find Illythiri invaders, dressed all in black, swarming one side of the village.
None of the warriors were able to fight the invaders off successfully. They were flooded into the village in too great of numbers for the clan to defend against them. Running to join the fight, wings flared to strike fear into her enemies, Drifaere suddenly found herself alone, in the dark of the wilds. When disorientation passed, she managed to smell the faint traces of teleportation magic on the air. With a roar of anger and anguish, she realized that her birthing mother had removed her from the battle. The last of the clan.
In the distance, Drifaere saw a city rising in the darkness... With no idea of where she was and with the knowledge that she was the last, Dri threw a cloak over her wings and began walking. She'd have to start a new life there.
ERP of any kind.
Impregnation of any kind.
Permanent results of capture (such as maiming or mutilation).
Player vs. Player.
Everything else. If you aren't sure, just ask. I love walk-ups.
Romantic RP. (Female Preferred)